Vengence
by Sakura-Revolution
Summary: Scar gets his chance at revenge.... so why is this so hard? Updated! Review for even MORE UPDATES!
1. Chapter 1

This was an odd, and unexpected situation, Scar knew. He had come back to Lior, confused and whole, having given everything to save a soul, something had taken mercy on him, and sent him away, confused and with a piece of red stone the size of his thumb's pad.

At first he had remembered nothing, but the closer he got to the desert, the more the knew, and the more he remembered… there was the building he had carried Kimblee's limp body to the top of, to drop, luring the state's army to enter… there was the ruins of the wall Edward had made to protect those he could… he even saw the hole he had left chasing the Crimson Alchemist.

Then he saw an arm sticking out of a dune, and he walked over, more curious than anxious… if it was this deeply buried, there was no chance it could be still alive. He froze when he saw a familiar seal on its palm, the second mark of the philosopher's stone.(1)

He knew there should be hate, should be anger and malice, but somehow the strangely preserved body only made him thoughtful. He leaned over and moved the body completely out of the sand, laying him back down so he could see him fully.

Long black hair had long since come undone, flowing down around the gaunt face like water, blood was dried and rubbed away by the ever present sand, his uniform now supple and bendable, the only trace an ugly dark stain. Dead skin was deceptively warm from the suns heat, and when He was moved, his spine was obviously cracked a separated from the post mortem fall.

Scar, much against his better judgment, and now, the one voice in his arm, lifted Kimblee's body and began to walk.

"Brother…?" The voice whispered. Scar shook his head sadly.

"Vengeance" he answered.

(1) Kimblee's seals, are the two symbols of the philosopher's stone, the sun and moon, AKA gold and silver respectively. The moon seal would be the second symbol.

(A/N: Yeah, that was short, but with Life, Bloodstone, and my drabbles everywhere, I have so little time… yet new ideas continue to ambush me at every turn of the way….

If there is a story of mine you like that I didn't mention above, I'm probably not working on it… if you like it, you better say so!

Also, if you have any intrest in THIS being continued, you better say so, because Although i have some more, it is not another finished chapter, and I'm not going to finish it unless there is interest... i'm working for a GED and have to conserve my writing time.)


	2. Chapter 2

((A/N: Okies, someone wanted to know how Scar threw Kimblee off a building with no arms… no clue, absolutely none.

But he can do everything he does in this because he has both arms, and the reason why will be revealed later.))

Scar found a quiet place to pitch a tent, and while he was doing this, wondered what it was about Kimblee that made him keep the body. What did he plan to do with it? If he wanted solace, leaving him there in the sand would have been a fine idea… the body would have dried up sooner or later, and left him dishonorably interred, and forgotten. Even burning it would have been a better fate, destroying his soul, so it could be spared judgment.

Scar gave the thing a poke, not sure what he expected. It remained still and he turned back to pitching the tent, then turned around and crouched down to look at the body. He was still pondering when he remembered the stone. He took it out and wondered if he should try to bring the alchemist back. What would it prove to have his life to hold above him?

"What indeed?" His brother's voice whispered and Scar made a face. It would prove nothing, but that didn't stop him from wanting to cause the alchemist great pain… true, he had been paid back for Scar's pain… but what about his brother's? What about his people's? Scar made a decision and ran the stone carefully over Kimblee's body, hoping this was how you did such things. The body twitched several times, then was still, and Scar was confused, blood running down his arm from using the thing. There was no pulse, but the bones were all back the way they had been in life, and the great wound was gone. He tried running the stone again, and shockingly, slowly, Kimblee drew a breath.

A hare seeing the smile that came to Scar's face, ran back into the sand, and was consumed by a jackal.

Scar soon discovered, despite Kimblee's gold eyes being ever bright, they were now sightless, and he groped around, confused about his surroundings. Scar for several days didn't say a word, wanting the alchemist at full health before he started anything. But he soon found that nursing the alchemist was more frustrating than anything he'd ever encountered.

Kimblee was difficult to feed for one thing. It took an hour of coaxing/growling/forcing/rubbing and sighing to get a bite down, just to have him cough it up and heave for another hour. Water was slightly easier, but not by much. Kimblee would take small sips, but give him too much, and it all came up. Plus it was hard to tell when he needed it. Scar knew the desert, but Zolf Kimblee was confusing and hard to live near…

But the worst part was when he started to talk to himself. He would whisper things, mostly nonsense, but sometimes names… Greed… Marta… Scar didn't know any of these people, but obviously remembering them caused Kimblee a lot of pain, and twice, Scar was tempted to break his vow of silence and ask who they were.

But he was quiet, and Kimblee was not helpful, and so the first week went.

(A/N: So… time for a little question… what do YOU people want to happen, I have completely forgotten where I was planning to go with this, so… make some suggestions, and I may or may not incorporate them… where does it SEEM like its going?)


	3. Chapter 3

Scar slowly coaxed a drink of water down Kimblee's throat, a little concerned by the fact that he couldn't seem to get enough fluids into Kimblee to replace those he lost during the heat of the day… of course this meant Kimblee was in constant agony, so he supposed every cloud had a silver lining.

Having had nearly a month to ponder Zolf Kimblee, he had been startled to realize that Kimblee was very pretty, almost girlish in the right light, usually that he got when the sun had started to set, and the open tent flap painted Kimblee's skin golden… then, with his eyes open and innocent, he looked almost…

"_Almost Ishballian?"_ His brother asked softly. Scar growled, and ignored him, tilting Kimblee's chin to prevent the water from dripping down his chin. Kimblee though, had heard the growl and suddenly jerked, sending the water spilling down his bare chest, he shrieked at the sudden chill and tried to stand, succeeding in tripping over the pallet he was on, knocking the cup out of Scar's hands, and it shattered as it hit the edge of the pail. Scar cursed as silently as possible and tried to convince Kimblee to lie back down without another sound, but the Alchemist seemed to have more energy in him than Scar could have expected.

He managed to take a shaking step away, and put his foot directly into the shards of the cup. He screamed and fell backwards, giving Scar time to pin him to the pallet, and the scarred man leaned weight onto Kimblee's shoulders and prepared to ride out the convulsion. Kimblee was screaming still, his blood running down the leg of Scar's pants.

"Greed!" he yelled, and Scar sighed. This was a name he would yell often, and Scar still had no clue who he was talking about. Kimblee's eyes were wide, and for the umpteenth time, Scar wanted to know what his eyes saw.

"Greed… I never… I never…." He stopped and was still. Scar sighed. His brother's voice was softly tutting.

"_Haven't you learned yet? You can kill them easily… but once you start to understand them…"_ It stopped, and Scar picked up a bowl, filling it with water. He looked at the pail, wondering if any of the blood from Kimblee's foot had dripped into it. He shrugged, figuring it didn't matter if it did, and gave some to Kimblee. He drank a little, and then turned his face away, breathing slowly.

Scar wondered if he should try to comfort the alchemist, and was enraged at his own weakness. He set down the bowl and left Kimblee to his hallucinations. His brother's voice laughed.

(A/N: Heya! Should Scar talk? What do you think? Is this getting better, or is it getting worse chapter by chapter?

Anyways… thanks for reviewing Darkness, you ish great!)


	4. Chapter 4

Scar came back by morning, and found Kimblee was asleep, his mouth slightly open, and his hands clenched around something. Scar was alarmed and started to pry Kimblee's fingers open. It was a struggle, but thankfully the alchemist didn't wake up. Scar had been careful around his hands, not knowing if he was healthy enough to use his seals. Better to be careful. Finally Scar had it out, and was surprised to find it wasn't any sort of weapon.

It was a small carved statue, made from a piece of fire wood, nearly burnt up. Kimblee' had been rubbing at the charcoal, and it resembled a child's hand now. Scar put it in his pocket, not sure if Kimblee had meant it to look how it did. He washed Kimblee's hands.

The alchemist woke up from the cold water, and hazily groped, once again trying to feel his benefactor, Scar deftly avoided his hand and dried off the one still in the water. Kimblee's fingers were so thin… so delicate, he wondered how much force it would take to break them all, and looking at the damp hand on his palm, he considered it for a moment, then folded it against Kimblee's chest. The alchemist blinked, as always trying to pull his world into focus. Scar impulsively ran his hand through Kimblee's hair, watching the way it curled and shone.

Finally he had come to a decision.

"Zolf Kimblee?" He said, to him his voice sounded like thunder, shattering the silence.

(Haha!

Super short!

But I think it ended just where it should sooooo...

After a review or two i give you more.)


	5. Chapter 5

Kimblee's pupils opened and contracted several times, as he struggled to place the voice. His lips moved, many names going over them silently as he struggled to think. Scar watched in facination, but finally Kimblee smiled… he smiled!

"Ishballian." he finally whispered and Scar nodded, forgetting he couldn't possibly see the gesture. He reached out and touched Kimblee's face, but brought the hand back sharply when the thin alchemist bit him. He hissed and hit Kimblee, making his head snap back, and Kimblee was laughing like a hyena, his hands clenching and unclenching on the blanket underneath him. Scar watched, holding his bloody fingers, and wondered why, despite the pain, he was tempted to just join in the laughter, and release all hold on his sanity.

Finally he got a hold on this impulse, and managed to scowl, although the effort was unnecessary, since Kimblee couldn't see it anyway.

"What's so damn funny?" He asked, and Kimblee's eyelids fell to half cover his eyes.

"You. Why did you bring me back? I was unsure if this was hell or not… until you spoke." Kimblee unclenched his hands and brought them to his face, stroking his own hair absently. Scar's fingers jerked, an irrational desire to pet Kimblee surfacing and disappearing in rapid succession.

"And why did my voice convince you, you were not in hell?' Scar asked flatly, and Kimblee's face twisted into a smile.

"You wouldn't be in MY hell." Kimblee said, and Scar had a new urge… to grab the alchemist's throat and strangle it, until the smile disappeared and he became as limp as he had been when Scar found him. But Scar simply nodded and sat on the floor of the tent, watching Kimblee as he struggled to stand.

But he hadn't recovered from his struggle earlier, and his body simply would not rise, so the best he could do was sit up, then fall back down.

"You're a mess." Scar observed, and Kimblee giggled. Scar sighed and stood up. "You have to drink this." he said, picking up the bowl, which Kimblee turned his face from.

"No. Take me back where you found me… I don't want to live." Kimblee said, and Scar chuckled.

"Too damn bad. Now drink this." He started to wrestle Kimblee's head, and soon realized, while one arm was enough to hold Kimblee's chin, and one could hold both wrists, that left no way to hold the bowl. He cursed, making Kimblee giggle again. Scar looked at him, less than an inch from his face and impulsively kissed, him, biting his lip.

(A/n: Heehee… like that twist? Too sudden? R&R as usual, and tell me what you think.)


	6. Chapter 6

Kimblee's eyes went wide, and he pushed Scar away, cradling his bloody lip, while Scar smirked.

"Blood for blood, alchemist." he said and Kimblee grinned.

"Fine, but you can't exactly have an arm for an arm… mine are too thin for you."

"True. Maybe I should try something else as payment." He hoped to see fear, but Kimblee started to laugh again, then smirked.

"You wouldn't be the first." Scar sighed, and stood up.

"Not worth the time that." He pulled Kimblee so he was back completely on the blanket and Kimblee let him, seeming to be lost in thought.

"Nothing ever is you know." he finally said and Scar shrugged before dropping him. Kimblee rubbed his hands together and blew softly on them. How he could be cold, Scar had no idea, but he sat and watched.

"Then why do it?" he asked, and Kimblee laughed.

"To die." he said, and Scar thought about that.

"To die? But you kill so many in the doing, you're assured of Hell."

"Naturally." Kimblee was quiet for a time, rubbing feeling into his hands still. Scar leaned forward and took one of his hands, rubbing it briskly between his to warm it up. Kimblee just stared ahead, lost in thought.

"I wanted Hell I suppose… I did something unforgivable even to me… so I sought it, and I had it." He allowed Scar to switch hands, covering the former one in the blankets pooled at his feet. Beneath he blanket, his fingers poked at the bloodstain from his foot earlier. Scar let the hand go, and they both went under the blanket, clenched in each other.

"What did you do?" Scar finally asked. Kimblee shrugged.

"Oh, betrayed the only friends I had, plus a lover who accepted me for what I was, just to follow an older lover to Lior… not a lot." Kimblee's eyes were slightly misty.

But Scar had one question…. 'YOU slept with ARCHER!" Scar could not stop the involuntary shuddering. Kimblee shrugged.

"he gives great head." Kimblee said simply, and Scar shuddered again.

"ewww…."

(A/N: and now for an author's note… why? Because I can.

Kimblee: uh, why am I being so talkative?  
Scar: and I'm being… nice?  
Kimblee: well?  
Me: because I can.  
Kimblee: Uh huh… I'm blowing up your cat now….) 


	7. Chapter 7

Kimblee talked very little after that, although Scar found it harder to feed him, and more often than not he absolutely refused to co-operate with any sort of care.

"Thank Ishballa he doesn't need a bathroom." Scar muttered, and his brother's voice reminded him that this meant he was dying of dehydration. Irrationally, Scar cared.

He finally discovered that Kimblee could be tempted by certain scents, when he brought a pomegranate from a tree near the well, and when offered, Kimblee swallowed several seeds, then drank a gulp of water to wash down the sour aftertaste. Scar could help smirking as he wiped juice from the corner of the alchemist's lip.

"So you'll eat fruit?" Scar said, not really expecting an answer. Kimblee frowned, but his breathing was steady, and he didn't throw up, so Scar decided it was a victory. The alchemist shut his eyes and Scar shrugged, crushing the rest of the seeds into a drinking jug. One way or another, he would get this alchemist healthy. Why, he didn't know.

While Kimblee slept, scar tried to remember how to doctor eye injuries.


	8. Chapter 8

Kimblee soon proved he could never escape the demons of his past, spending most of each day conversing with them. Scar would listen while he kept up the camp, unable to imagine who these people were, or ever could have been. One was a child, he was sure by the soft tones the person drew from the alchemist, and the utter guilt of his interactions. Who? Maybe a death during the war? Did Kimblee feel guilt for that?

Scar held a bowl of water to Kimblee's mouth, after a bit of coaxing, managed to get him to drink, at which point the went back to his whispering. Scar couldn't help the slight wave of sympathy he felt, this man was a mess!

"You can't hate an insane enemy, can you?" His brother observed, and Scar scowled. Kimblee coughed, an imitation of a sob. He muttered about leaving "him" behind, and Scar sighed. His brother urged him to offer comfort. Scar didn't say a word.


	9. Chapter 9

Another week had passed, and Kimblee's demons had become Scar's friends, keeping the alchemist so distracted and sick with grief that he had ceased to make any sort of attempt on Scar's life or limbs. The alchemist just laid still, staring up into the ceiling, whimpering softly and whispering the names of children... children he'd known, killed, raped and raised.

Scar mixed herbs into a thick paste, methodicly tapping and twisting. The rhythm of the pestle and mortar soothed something deep down, and watching the leaves disappear, replaced by warm, sweet smells and familier brown food. He slowed down as Kimblee began to speak again. Scar listened, and an image of a young boy formed in his mind, as Kimblee spoke. He imagined the child as small for his age, long limbed and sallow faced like the alchemist himself, but with kind eyes.

The sudden ache startled Scar, but his pity was turned inwards, towards himself, rather than towards the alchemist. Even a demon in flesh like Kimblee had found a woman... someone willing to lay beside him at night... who carried his seed anh gave him a son. Scar bitterly wondered why cursed alchemists were blessed with children. Why his line, and that of his brother would end, while somewhere out there, a gold eyed child was carrying Kimblee's blood on into the furture. He scooped some of the paste onto his fingers and molded it into orbs, laying them out along a stone outside to dry... It was a staple of his childhood... a few dropped into water made soup.

Cooking was tiresome, and Scar had to admit one thing... when it came to cutting corners, he had become quiet adept.

(A/N: For you, Miss Darkness... because your review made me feel happy inside.

To everyone:

I have no internet at home, but I'm with family who do for a few weeks. I'm printing out every story that gets a review from now on, and intend to update everything that gets one.

So REVIEW!

The more reviews that come, the more updating a story recieves... I be selfish, I love reviews.

Kimblee: Also, each review earns Sakura's cat another day or two of life.  
Me: hey! Put FrankieKittie DOWN!  
Kimblee: You named your cat after the anorexic wonder? Where's my namesake?  
Scar: I flushed it down the toilet and wiped my ass.  
Kimblee: I feel the love...) 


	10. Chapter 10

Kimblee's sanity slowly improved, his eyes getting less clouded and more alert by the day, but his vision not improving at all. Scar was becoming more worried by the day. Kimblee still had not needed a bathroom, and scar was almost sure that was never a good sign. Scar coaxed a little water down his throat, but Kimblee refused more than a mild sip. His skin pressed tightly to his face, and his hands were barely more than bone and papery, deadly skin clinging to it.

"Come on Alchemist…" He tried to coax, but the words came out hateful and sharp, despite the lack of real anger. Scar wondered when the anger had disappeared from his mind. He still felt bitter, but increasingly the bitterness was replaced by pity. When he failed to convince him, Scar set the cap aside and carefully arranged Kimblee's limbs underneath the blankets. Despite the heat outside, the alchemist remained tired and cold, teeth chattering as his body selectively chose which functions to perform with the limited fuel. Heart and lungs could only remain online, so long as the temperature gauges died. Scar wondered if Kimblee could regain health after all of this.

The alchemist became agitated and panicky, eyes wide. He went limp for a moment, then started to talk softly about someone, family. Scar was quiet, coming to the gradual realization that he was talking about a brother. Scar's brother's voice quietly reminded Scar that the longer he knew the alchemist, the more of himself he recognized in him.

Scar scowled.


	11. Chapter 11

((A/N: xxdarknessxxfallsxx, you got me to update less than six months from my last update… good for you! And you actually like the Kimblee family thing? Awesome.))

When night came, and the cold settled in, Kimblee predictably became more miserable. In an action that shocked Scar, both because of its violence and his own surprise that Kimblee was still capable of such movement, Kimblee sat up and threw the blanket off himself. He had nearly stood up when Scar grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back down onto the pallet. It was a very one sided struggle, although made challenging by the fact that Scar wasn't entirely sure if he was holding onto much of anything, between he layers of his own tunic and Kimblee's sand damaged uniform, the alchemist's body was next to nothing. Scar had to be careful not to hold on too tight, the image of a dried sapling shattering in his hands once floating unsettlingly to mind.

When he got Kimblee back onto the pallet, he gently applied pressure to his chest to keep him down, and was startled when he felt a bit of give and Kimblee began coughing. He quickly removed his hand and Kimblee struggled for a moment before going still, his ragged (_more ragged now?_) breathing marking the spark of life still present. Scar felt a bit sick, and carefully pushed up the rapidly discoloring undershirt, horrified to find a purple bruise spreading over Kimblee's chest. The alchemist was silently regarding him, and it took Scar a moment to remember that the Alchemist was blind.

"You're probably dying." He said gruffly, and Kimblee laughed at him, a thin spray of blood on his mouth.

"Wishful thinking, Ishballan." He murmured. "Its just the breastbone… it heals." He said softly, touching his own bruise with a wince. "Even children survive injuries like that every day." He said, tracing the outline of the bruising thoughtfully. Scar raised an eyebrow, wondering what child had taught Kimblee that lesson. He was quiet for a long time, watching Kimblee's bored exploration.

"His name was Andrew…" Kimblee muttered, and Scar turned his full attentions back to the smirking face.


	12. Hows this for beating procrastination?

Scar paused for a long time, waiting to see if the Alchemist would say anything else, but he was silent and Scar glared. He grudgingly broke his silence.

"Did you break him?" He said, and Kimblee laughed for a long time.

"Of course not." He said silkily. "I'm a mild, indulgent parent, I could never hurt him." He smirked and Scar almost hit him, but thought better of it. Instead he sat for a while, thinking. He remembered Kimblee during the war, he hadn't cared much for anyone else living, and he had killed more children than Scar could place names to. Children he had seen born, children who had known him by name once. Kimblee had ended them all without so much as a backward glance. He tried to imagine that Alchemist as a father… as an indulgent, loving father even. It didn't make sense. That man couldn't have been the same man as the demon of Ishbal. And the creature that attacked Lior… No, that one wasn't a good father either… Alphonse WAS just a child, and Kimblee nearly killed him. He didn't even offer the quick merciful death the Ishballans had been given.

Scar nearly bit his tongue when he realized he had used "merciful" to describe Kimblee. He stared at the now quiet alchemist and frowned. These strange thoughts would be the death of him… Instead he now tried again to imagine Kimblee as a father, tried to imagine him gathering a child up into his arms… and oddly, the image came to his head easily. But the demon of Ishbal and the monster of Lior were nothing like this image. Instead he thought of Kimblee as he was right now, sickly and confined to bed. He could imagine this Kimblee as a father, holding a child, caring about it… But that was just stupid. Kimblee had never been like this before.

Still, his curiosity was killing him, so he asked.

"Kimblee… were you sick as a child?"

Kimblee laughed at him, but Scar thought it might have been a yes.

(A/N: Ugh. I need to go back and watch the original series again… I keep having to remind myself that Brotherhood is not the series I started this in… Course, maybe I'll just mix the two. Could be fun, right? I think I like Father better than Dante, who agrees?)


	13. Chapter 13

(A/N: This chapter is for Lanshannarra because she sent me a reveiw, and it brightened my day. I wanna get back to writing lots of fanfiction, and I want lots of reviews... think you guys can help?

Oh, and reviews to other fics will get updates too. I've been getting over a family death for the last year or so, so I've been useless for updates, but I WILL update now. I have a new computer and no excuses.)

Kimblee was too wak, or perhaps too sore to sit up the nect day, and Scar wanted to know more about this child of his, but dared not ask. He wasn't sure what he would find out. But one thing he was almost sure of, the alchemist must have been a sickly child. It was funny, but Scar wondered if he should have noticed sooner.

He had been a monk after all, he had known the men and women that sickly children became, and Kimblee very much fit the mold. Paler than even his cursed amestrian comrades, deliate featured, but sunken faced, and didn;t many childhood diseasesd leave their mark on the mind?

Scar grudgingly laid out on the mat, careful not to push too hard on the frail alchemist. Kimblee sleepily moved towards him, without waking and Scar felt his face heat when he realized Kimblee was fucking _nuzzling_ him. he tried to inch further away but the alchemist seemed comfortably sittuated and unwilling to let go. Scar finally gave a push and tumbled directly into the water bucket, dashing himself through with the tepid water. He looked up just in time to noticed Kimblee lauging at him. He wavered somewhere between rage and amusement, and was horrified to find he was becoming fond of the demon.

Not like he was of his brother, or even the occasional woman he had spent time with, back when he had a name, a people and a homeland, but fond nonetheless. like one became fond of a dog.

Dog... Military... Dog.

In a matter of moments Scar's own laughter joined Kimblee's, and together they assured anyone nearby of lifelong night terrors.


	14. Chapter 14

(Hey y'all, this is for Miss Kristine... proof that I am indeed an attention whore and will continue stuff just in the vain hope for more reviews. :)

Hope you enjoy it.)

Kimblee had been humming lately, and Scar was fully sick of it, but unwilling to admit it. To admit that a frail, dying man was making him consider gouging his ears to escape whatever the nameless tune might have been... no that would be an admission of defeat, and Scar came from a proud people, he would not be bested by...

He stopped, breathing slowly and reminding himself to stay calm, be the adult... since insanity precluded Kimblee from being the adult. Scar's tailbone was bruised from falling onto a bucket, and Kimblee had been smug about the accident, even though his sightless eyes prevented him from enjoying the sight of Scar limping about. Scar felt rage rise and fall in his chest. He sat down carefully, tending his anger like a wilting plant, reminding himself that Kimblee was a demon, a monster and worse as well. It worked somewhat, letting him see the alchemist through the mental haze of red he reserved for "sinners" but it wasn't as easy as it once could have been, The sad state the Crimson Alchemist now was in made it easy for pity to creep into Scar's mind, and his brother's spirit gave him now help, reminding him that there were worse things than death, and that Kimblee's goals had always come down to death, never rape or torture. Scar was tempted to argue that Kimblee's very methodology ensured torture, or that they did not know if Kimblee had sexually assaulted his victims or not, but his brother's arguments were hard to deny, and so Scar's hatred, tended like a precious flower over long painful years, began to die away, its blossoms useless to him now.

He watched Kimblee, who was slowly learning to adapt to his blindness, and was lying still, seeming to be listening to voices only he could actually hear. Scar sometimes wondered if the alchemist had lost what tenuous hold on his sanity he had left, but he couldn't judge him for hearing voices, not when he had the spirit of his dead brother as a constant, if sometimes unwelcome, companion. Kimblee was whispering softly to something only he could hear, coaxing and soothing his imaginary friend. Scar, tired of being left out of the conversation gave Kimblee's arm a poke and was pleased to watch him startle, then felt guilty as the movement left his shirt askew and revealed the healing bruise across his chest. Scar shook it off and griped Kimblee's arm.

"Who are you whispering with? Conjuring spirits now?" The accusation made Kimblee smile briefly.

"Alchemists don't tend to conjure spirits... Well, not without nasty repercussions at least." His eyes turned towards Scar, but without actual sight they focused a little to the side of Scar's face. Scar without thinking shifted so his body was in the line of "sight."

"I can hear her... I can hear her if I'm quiet." He revealed, and Scar considered this admission, unsure of who Kimblee could hear. He wondered if it was the snake woman Kimblee sometimes cried apologies to, or maybe the wife Scar's mind could not fathom existing.

"Who?" Scar asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

"Emily... My wife. She died a long time ago, but I still can hear her if I listen." he said, and his face gained a soft, affectionate expression. Scar found himself interested.

"How did she die?" Scar asked softly. Kimblee smiled wider.

"I blew her up... her meatloaf was terrible that night." He purred and Scar nearly threw up. Kimblee just laughed. Scar finally realized it was a joke and scowled.

"No... It was an illness. I got a letter about it, but by that time I was already on trial and..." He stopped. "I'm sure her parents would have turned me away even if I had gotten home to her." He laid still for a long time, thinking. "My son... he's grown now you know... or nearly so." He flexed his hands and rubbed his moon seal with the back of the other hand. Scar watched, and felt pity drifting up again.

"Why did you do it? If you knew you'd be sent to prison, away from your kid?"

"You should know... You left your people too..." Kimblee said softly.


	15. Chapter 15

He came to realize the alchemist's power required far more than met the eye. The moon seal identified the chemicals offered by his targets and altered what he had to form the explosive, the sun provided the ignition and then... Well Scar wasn't sure what then. From his brother's texts the transmutation must be incredibly intuitive, Kimblee himself always a moment in time away from either a perfect show or a mutilating misstep.

He gingerly touched the mark in his face and for a moment marveled at the precision. Kimblee was an artist, a madman yes, and a wild brutal animal, but one with wonderful and terrible talent. Scar glanced at Kimblee's quiet, pliant form and wondered if blinding could tame his dangerous game, or if he would adapt the way a blinded animal sometimes does, eventually learning to make his bombs without the need for vision. That in itself was frightening. He could kill him, the thought often crossed his mind. But he could.

At least, he thought he could. But if that was true, why hadn't he? It wasn't lack of opportunity, nor a lack of reason. Much of Ishval died because of the crazed alchemist, his very name given as a warning to keep children inside at night, like a boogie man, the howl of a jackel given as his "cry".

Yet... How many had he really killed? Certainly his share, more than that even. He took joy in it, pride even. But when Scar really thought hard about it, he realized that nearly every death tended to be blamed on the one alchemist, even if Scar's mission was against all state alchemists.

This introspective indulgence was interrupted when Kimblee raised his head. Without needing Scar o make a sound he turned his head towards him.

"I think it's raining." He said softly. Scar wasn't sure any other words could have struck him with such fear.


End file.
